Chapter 14: Haddy Carries the Flag

Wednesday we went home thinking our program for Saturday was all choreographed. On Thursday Waldorf tore it apart to make room for Ashley. Hadiya was at rehearsal because she would be firing the cannon. She called it “therapeutic.”

Hey, whatever works!

Not about to miss an opportunity, Waldorf asked her if she’d also like a part in our grand finale. Just a simple flying move. Hadiya a cheerleader? A flyer? She jumped in with both feet, never mind that one leg was wood and titanium from the thigh down.

All those changes made Thursday’s rehearsal run long – very long. No pressure? The last thing Waldorf reminded us was that we were playing arch-enemy North Side High. Last year, on their home field, we’d humiliated them. They were strong favorites this year. They always played with a take-no-prisoners attitude and they were out for revenge.

Then Friday morning someone – probably Devers – decided Hadiya should carry the Stars And Stripes in for the national anthem. Ad hoc color guards had been done before when the Marines and Jr. ROTC weren’t available and this was one of those times. Of course a color guard has to be more than just one flag, so Donna and Ashley were added to carry the state and school flags, and what’s a color guard without a guard or two?

But we only had one – don’t ask me why – and that was me, carrying a wooden rifle used by the Jr. ROTC for their ceremonies. It was white with brass fittings and looked real good in a Marine’s white-gloved hands against his impressive Dress Blues. In our case, since we were not Marines but either cheerleaders or in The Program this week we would all be in – tah dah! – nothing.

Which would leave an impression.

Haddy was thrilled. So were Donna and Ashley and everyone else. I was nervous. I’d seen Marine Corps color guards and, naked or not, I wanted ours to be done right.

What’s to do? Just march in, salute and national anthem and march out, right?

Nope. The rules say the Stars and Stripes must always, always, always be to the right of all the other flags, with the guard on the end.

Marching in, that’s easy. But when it’s time to march back out a simple “about face” or “to-the-rear-march” would put the American flag on the left, a major faux pas. So the color guard has to do sort of a do-si-do with the various flag bearers and the guard changing places in the line. Since I was the so-called “expert” – one of the prices of having a Marine for a brother – I was appointed Drill Instructor to teach this.

I called Me to bring me the Marine Corps Drill Manual from home so I could bone up on that stuff while I forked down my cold stir-fry lunch. Haddy had brought some of her mom’s yummy gulab jamun snacks for dessert, which got me and the pages of the manual all sticky.

Anyway, after Friday’s final cheerleader undress rehearsal just me and Haddy and Donna and Ashley were left to learn “colors reverse, march.”

All I could think of was that I better not screw it up. Since I was both Drill Instructor and part of the action it was sort of like doing brain surgery on myself without a mirror. It took a while and a lot of bumping into each other.

“No, Ashley, you take two steps forward, Donna takes only one.” I even dropped the rifle a couple of times.

After we’d finally run it perfectly three times we headed for the showers, all sweaty and grassy and tired. As usual Haddy left her prosthetic leg leaning against her locker so we helped her under the spray, turning the shower into a mutually enjoyable group grope. Everything was fine fun until we helped her out and set her down in front of her locker.

“Where is my leg?”

We looked, and got sick feelings in the pits of our stomachs. A quick search and we knew. While we’d been washing off the mud and sweat and grass someone must have slipped into the locker room and stolen it.

“SHIT! FUCK!!”

They hadn’t even left a ransom note.

Co-captain Donna took charge. “Wait a minute! Let’s not panic.”

“I am not panicking. I am angry! I know I have friends who will carry me until it is found or replaced. I am looking at some of them right now. But someone must not want me to carry the flag tomorrow. I will not let that happen! I will carry the flag tomorrow, no matter what!”

That was the Haddy I knew and loved. I suggested finding a new leg.

“This late on Friday?” Ashley said.

I almost suggested a broom-stick duct taped to her thigh but decided that wouldn’t go over well.

“What about the wheelchair?” Donna asked.

That was shot down when I pointed out that would make the American flag lower than the other flags, another no-no, unless we each had wheelchairs, on a grassy field, and who’d push?

“All I know is that I have been chosen to carry the flag of the United States of America, the country that has taken in me and my family. Me! Who is not yet even a citizen was chosen to honor your national flag! I will do it if I must crawl on my stomach with it in my teeth.”

“Dragging the flag on the ground is a no-no,” Ashley scolded.

Haddy shot her a glare that should have reduced her to ashes.

I suggested Haddy could ride on Lestat’s shoulders. I’d ride Matt, Donna and Ashley could pick the stunt-team base of their choice.

“We’d look like a chicken fight in a swimming pool – really stupid,” Donna snorted.

I was pacing, opening lockers and slamming them shut, while the rest of them threw around even crazier ideas, like golf carts or on horseback. Haddy, with one leg, on a horse? Get real.

On about my third lap past the door to the hall I heard something and froze. The other guys stopped chattering and looked in my direction. Gesturing for them to keep talking I tip-toed back to listen. It was one of those doors with a vent to let the locker-room stink out and through that I heard it again – giggles and whispers. That didn’t sound like some evil plot.

I took a short run at the door. The results – thuds, bumps and screams – were quite satisfying. I found two of our freshman cheerleaders sprawled in the hall. One had her hands over her face and was moaning. The other was trying to see if her left ear was still there. I yanked the hands away from the first girl’s face, ignoring the blood streaming from her nose. “Where is it?”

“Where’s whad?”

“As if you didn’t know.”

“It’s just a joke!” the other protested.

I slapped her bruised ear. “Does it look like I’m laughing? Where is it?”

“Id’s safe! Id was just a joke. We hid id in a drash cad,” bloody nose burbled.

“Which trash can?”

“Thad big one in the lunch room.”

“Shit!” It was Friday. I had visions of a custodian emptying the garbage in the dumpster. If Haddy’s leg wound up in the truck it would be gone forever.

Yelling for the others to deal with those two I took off, the floor cold under my bare feet, the air playing its usual naughty games with my naked parts. Sure enough, the lunchroom garbage was gone, probably already in the dumpster.

When I had the time I was going to kill those stupid bitches! I got outside just as the garbage truck let out a mighty bellow. Without even thinking I took a flying leap off the loading dock and landed on top of the rising dumpster. The driver’s eyes went wide as saucers. He must have hit the emergency reverse. The big bin slammed back down on the pavement with a crash that bounced me off it. Bruised and scraped, I scrambled up, trying to pry the lid up.

The driver was already out of the cab. “Jeez, kid, you tryin’a get killed or somethin’? An’ where’s your clothes?”

“I think my friend’s leg is in there!”

He turned white. “Where’s the rest of her?”

“In the locker room. She’s okay! It’s her prosthetic. Her wooden leg.”

“Oh, that cute Pakistani girl!” He was wearing a Central High football jersey that had seen better days and lots of trash. First time I ever heard Haddy described as “cute!” I thought she was beautiful, in spite of her scars. But cute?

The seams of his shirt split when he put his back into raising the dumpster’s lid. I wriggled over the edge and went headfirst into a reeking pile of barfeteria waste and started rooting around in it.

“Is this what you’re looking for?”

Picking a banana peel off my face and wiping coleslaw off my tits I looked up. A custodian on the loading dock was holding Hadiya’s leg.

Oh God did I feel a wave of relief. I also felt like a total fool.

The driver helped me out of the crud and they hosed the worst of it off me. Shit! Cold water! I even showed my pink to get the coffee grounds out. Then we shared a laugh. Their story about the naked girl in the dumpster was sure to be good for quite a few beers after work.

Back at the locker room Haddy pulled me down and showered me with kisses and hugs before finally letting go and taking her leg back to carefully wipe it off and inspect it. I wished she’d held on to me longer. She was warm, and smelled good! Then the others took their turns hugging me before we went after the two perps.

“Have you met Roma and Juliet Fantucci, Judy?” Donna asked. “They’re twins. Roma’s the one with the bloody nose.”

I rubbed my shoulder, bruised again.

“Roma and Juliet? You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope.”

“Jeez!”

Oh I recognized them. They were one reason Waldorf had replaced her wimpy coach’s whistle with one of the Program’s super-loud Storm whistles. I wanted to slug them, but I thought maybe their names were punishment enough. They were sitting down so for a change even I towered over them. They cringed.

I took a deep breath and that reminded me where I’d just been, so I dripped on them instead. I wanted to roast them over a slow fire, but before I could find matches Donna pulled me into a huddle with Haddy and Ashley.

“Devers?” Ashley asked.

At hearing Devers’ name Roma and Juliet folded in on themselves.

Hadiya was fondling her leg, still a bit slimy from its garbage bath. “Even I know already how she feels about such pranks. She will – what is the expression I want? – she will have them for lunch!”

“Probably even she’s gone home by now,” I pointed out.

We all looked at them. Jeez they were cute, with big brown eyes and curly black hair. They traded on that. It almost worked, even on me. Naked they’d have had me drooling.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Donna answered. “So far nobody but us knows. Why wait until Monday?”

We’d all witnessed Haddy’s challenges. We looked at each other, and without saying anything we reached a verdict and the sentence.

“Hear ye! Hear ye! The court is now in session,” Donna announced.

“Whad?” Roma asked warily.

“We think you two need to learn what it’s like to be missing an arm and a leg,” I suggested.

For a second Juliet looked like she was about to wet her pants. Maybe she thought we were going to cut off her leg.

The thought had crossed my mind.

“You two will spend every available moment this weekend with Hadiya, helping her with all the stuff she has trouble doing without her leg and hand,” Donna answered. “And we do mean everything.”

“I am sure my mother and my father will welcome their help. Father will appreciate it most of all. He finds dealing with some of my more feminine personal things very embarrassing.”

The twins shared another look. They didn’t look happy. Relieved maybe, but not happy.

“Give me your phone number, please, so my parents can call yours to make the invitation official.”

“Do ya have to tell our dad?” Roma asked, still gently blotting at her nose.

“I do. He will want to know whose floor you will be sleeping on for the weekend, and why.”

“The whole weekend?” That was Juliet.

We nodded.

“Saturday through until Monday morning. Here’s how it’s going to be,” Donna explained. “You’ll meet us tomorrow morning at the Minute Spa for our pre-game makeovers. Eight o’clock, at the mall. Don’t be late.”

“Eight? In the morning? But it’s Sat...” Roma started, only to have Juliet give her a nudge.

“And bring what you think you’ll need for a sleepover at my house,” Haddy added.

“We go to Mass on Sunday,” Roma pointed out.

“We will see what your father says,” Haddy answered. “Perhaps sharing my evening prayers to Mecca will do.”

Knowing what I do about the Catholic Church’s possessive attitudes I wasn’t sure about that, but it wasn’t my problem.

“If you aren’t waiting for us when we get there Mrs. Devers will want see you in her office first thing Monday morning,” Donna threatened. “But I’m sure your parents will get you to the mall on time when we explain the reason.

“Now get out of here.”

They got, and Donna wrinkled her nose at me. “I’m not letting you in my car without another shower. In fact we all better shower again, with soap.”

“I am quite sure that what is on you is not halal!” Her leg back on, Haddy stumped into the shower with us.

The next morning Hadiya and me were in the Spa’s front window, with Roma and Juliet standing against the wall like ball-girls at a tennis tournament, ready to leap into action at Haddy’s whim. Haddy’s leg was off so a Needles ‘n’ Skins artist could restore the paint job on it.

Both Hadiya’s and the twins’ parents had agreed they needed the lesson. It had started early. This wasn’t a mall romp for them. They’d helped Haddy out of her clothes and carefully folded them, helped her get her leg off, helped her into the beautician’s chair. While the manicurist worked on Haddy’s fingernails one of the twins even held Haddy’s tea so she could sip it through a straw. There was lots of hands-on help. If Haddy got an itch it got scratched, no matter where it was.

Donna and Ashley were in back booths. There was a growing crowd of spectators out front. Haddy was the center of attention, thanks to her amputations and henna decorations, but I got my share. A guy right in front of me had a vacant grin on his face and his hands in his pockets. Either a gerbil was doing somersaults in his shorts or he was glad to see me. I expected a spreading stain at any moment.

Oh, and the twins were as naked as we were. They hadn’t been high school cheerleaders for very long, the program was in their future, so they weren’t used to the exposure. There were lots of eyes on them, on their slim bodies, their shy 14-year-old breasts. From time to time their hands wandered down to cover the first wisps of dark hair on their pubes. All it took was a “tut tut” from me or Haddy to get them back to attention.

Or, more accurately, “at ease,” with their hands behind their backs, their feet shoulder width apart. Some of the guys beyond the window were probably classmates. Smart phones were getting a workout and the crowd grew. By Monday those girls would have no secrets and everyone would know just how close to identical they were, right down to the mirror-image moles on their pussy lips. Roma’s was on her right, Juliet’s the left.

“What is in your hair?” Jason asked as he washed my long locks for the second time. I still stunk.

“Be glad I got the coleslaw out.”

“I don’t think I want to know how it got there.” He kept working with his potions and lotions, his combs and the blow dryer. Fortunately we’d allowed lots of time. In the end even the twins got scarlet and gold streamers wound in their hair.

I was more than a little concerned about how things would go at the game. Along with the football rivalry Central was very much a pro-Program school, North – uh – not so much, according to our visitors at The Spa. Skyler and her brother Jeffy had shown up, both joyously naked, mom and their father – both dressed – with them. I got wonderful warm, skin-to-skin hugs from the kids. They were so cute! I guess daddy had come along hoping I’d be there naked. I was glad we didn’t disappoint him.

“Pleased to meetcha.” He held my hand while his eyes roamed. It gave me goose bumps. Nice goose bumps, not creepy ones. Too bad he was dressed. It looked like he had a good package.

He went left-hand to left-hand with Haddy, and actually kissed the backs of her fingers. Haddy giggled and squirmed her thighs together.

When he finally took his hand back Mrs. Robinson made it a point to hug his arm possessively. “You’re playing North High today, aren’t you?”

I nodded.

“You be careful with them,” Mr. Robinson warned. “They put a real licking on South at our opening game, knocked two of our best players out for the season. Knees. They like to hit low. Nothing illegal, or at least the refs didn’t flag ‘em. Also, there’s a rumor that most of the North players have formed sort of a frat or something to score with girls in The Program.”

That didn’t sound good. “I thought North was fighting the whole Naked in School thing.”

“Not the jocks,” Mr. Robinson said, keeping his voice down. His kids were tracing Haddy’s decorations, and they didn’t seem to be listening. “They treat it like an invitation to sex, willing or not.”

“We’ve heard rumors the girls are scared, but their complaints are ignored. Guys who try to stand up to the jocks get bullied. It’s just rumors, but...” Mrs. Robinson’s voice trailed off.

That sounded to me like the CLODs were planting their anti-NiS rumors. At least I hoped they were rumors. I hated to think they weren’t.

“We thought you should know. We’ll try to be at the game. It should be a good one.”

I liked hearing that. “Try to get there early. We’re in the color guard.”

“That should be interesting! You’re such a little bit of a thing!” Mrs. Robinson said. “Sorry, that was rude.”

“Not really,” I giggled. “I am small. But I’m only a guard. I try to stand tall. Except for Hadiya we’re all cheerleaders.”

“Why Hadiya?” Mrs. Robinson asked, looking at her kids. “They’re not bothering you dear, are they?”

She was referring to the kids of course. Bothering Haddy? Anything but!

“I am carrying the American flag!” she announced proudly.

“That’ll stir up the patriots!” Mr. Robinson said.

“Is that good or bad?” Haddy asked. “I am showing my respect to my adopted country.”

“Maybe not everyone will see it that way,” he pointed out. “Not that I feel that way.”

Haddy had obviously captured him the way she seemed to catch everyone else.

“I think we’d better be going, dear,” his wife urged. “Skyler needs some new panties.”

He snorted, letting her lead him off. “I don’t know why. She never wears any these days, or anything else. Good luck to you!”

With that they headed off, leaving me worrying. I was smart enough to know that even if what they told us was only rumors eventually they wouldn’t be just rumors. Ugh! And how would our opponents respond to a bunch of naked cheerleaders? And a naked Pakistani carrying the colors?

Well, all I could do was guard the flag with my dummy rifle. I guess if I had to I’d crack someone over the head with it. Now if they gave me a sword ... But where would I keep it?

Never mind.

Jason finished up with us and we headed for school, where the locker room was the usual bedlam. I passed along the Robinsons’ news to Waldorf. She looked worried. I’d have gotten word to the football coach about North’s game tactics, too, but didn’t have a chance.

From the locker room we followed the cheerleaders out to the field, “we” meaning the color guard plus Hadiya’s minions. A couple of senior Boy Scouts working on their Eagle rank met us with the flags we’d carry, and my rifle. The rest of the cheerleaders frolicked out on the field to stir the crowd and form their lane for the football team to run through.

We stayed behind.

Understand, this isn’t some pro stadium. It’s just a high school football field, bleachers on either side seating maybe a thousand people in all, if they’re real friendly. Our side, the home-team side, had a sort of tower behind the stands where the announcer and score-keepers hung out and big speakers for the PA system. They even had a roof for some shade and to keep the rain off, not that there was much chance of that.

No lights for night games. Our budget goes for teaching, and every year we fight to keep our music and art programs.

The band had a section roped off for them in the bleachers. The Pep Club was all over, selling refreshments – no beer – and there was faculty and staff and a few cops for security.

At the end of our stands there was a platform maybe tall-person head-high for Hadiya’s cannon. The gun was aimed away from the field to protect the crowd’s ears. Mr. Mac already was up there, his medals a splash of color on his khaki uniform. Even from a distance I recognized a Purple Heart and a Silver Star.

Up there with him were a couple of boxes. One was for ammunition. I knew enough to know that if it was real ammo it’d probably put a hole in the gym a hundred yards away, so it had to be blanks. This gun was no toy. As for the brick wall, it made for a great echo.

It’s a good thing the North team’s cheerleaders came in from the opposite end of the field from us, and they stayed on their side of the field. Some of their girls took exception to our cheerleader – male and female – nakedness. So did the spectators on the visiting-team side. Otherwise the ladies – in the case of North I use the term loosely – might have gotten the festivities off to an early start.